


(there might be hand-shaped bruises tomorrow)

by Twisted_Mind



Series: Irredeemable Filth: The Steter Collection [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Stiles, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He is so, so ready for them to get this show on the road. They’d discussed this fantasy a few weeks ago, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking (read: obsessing) about it since.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	(there might be hand-shaped bruises tomorrow)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BelleAmante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelleAmante/gifts).



> To those who celebrate: Merry Christmas!  
> To those who don't: I wish you peace, happiness, and love.  
> And lets all make a joyful noise that we can come together over Steter porn. 
> 
> Betaed by DenaCeleste, enabled SHAMELESSLY by her and BelleAmante both, and just. Don't look at me, okay? This is not my fault.

 

 

Stiles is already quivering where he’s face down, ass up over the spanking bench, and they haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.

Well, okay. The two slick fingers Peter has in his ass definitely qualify as “fun”, so he moans his appreciation. Peter chuckles.

“You ready, baby?”

“ _Yes_.” He is so, so ready for them to get this show on the road. They’d discussed this fantasy a few weeks ago, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking (read: obsessing) about it since.

Peter nips his butt cheek, and Stiles yelps. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Peter hums. “Good boy.” While Stiles smiles at the praise, he can’t stop the disappointed noise he makes when Peter pulls his fingers free. “Now, now, I’m just getting the bullet. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles doesn’t want to feel warm and reassured by that, but. Peter does that to him.

He cants his hips up when Peter holds him open with one hand. Peter shushes him as the vibe slips inside. He turns it on low, and Stiles makes a needy little sound that becomes a full-blown keen when Peter nudges at the toy until it’s sitting right over his prostate.

Stiles uses the time Peter’s away washing his hands to try and regulate his breathing. Because no matter how amazing the vibrator feels, he needs air. On a continuing basis. He’s managed to settle into something quasi-regular when Peter returns.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to.”

Stiles bites his tongue so he doesn’t let the “Fuck off,” slip out. It won’t get him what he wants. “Daddy, please? Need you.”

Bingo.

Peter’s there, stroking those inhumanly hot hands over Stiles’s skin, murmuring, “Alright, baby. Time to play.”

Peter warms him up with a series of rapid smacks. They’re love-taps, really, but every time Peter’s palm connects with his butt, he clenches reflexively, which grinds the vibe against his happy place, which makes him whine and arch up for more, and . . . it’s a vicious cycle. By the time Peter’s moved on to spanking him properly, with strikes that make a cracking sound and light up his nerves, Stiles is desperate. Everything feels so, so good. His ass is warm and tingling, his insides are hugging the toy so tightly Peter may never get it back, and his dick is dripping. He’s so close.

“ _Daddy_ ,” he whines. He can’t get anything else out.

“I know, baby.” Peter pushes the heels of his hands up the tight muscles in Stiles’s lower back. “I can smell how on edge you are, how you’ve leaked all over the bench.” His hands reach Stiles’s shoulders, and he starts over at the base of Stiles’s spine. “So beautiful, the way your pretty noises blend with the way your heart pounds. I promise that I’ll take care of you soon, but I want you to take five more for me. Can you do that, baby boy?”

Stiles doesn’t know if he can take another five, but he makes an assenting noise anyway. Peter rewards (punishes?) him by turning the vibrator up to medium, and laying five sharp blows across his ass in quick succession. They’re the hardest yet, and Stiles won’t be surprised if he has hand-shaped bruises tomorrow.

Peter’s stroking up his back again, urging him to breathe. Because apparently he’d forgotten, what with drowning in the intensity of _the best spanking ever_. Once he’s heaving in air, Peter manhandles him off the bench, and tosses him onto their bed.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” Peter teases, before bending his head to lap up the pre-come Stiles has gotten literally everywhere.

“Not my fault,” he chokes out as Peter’s tongue licks hotly over the pulse of his femoral artery, before travelling up his shaft to suckle at the head. His hands tangle in Peter’s hair.

“Ah, ah, ah, no touching.” Peter pulls his hands away before ducking back down to tease some more, sucking at the cock in his mouth like he’s thirsty. Stiles fists the blankets, because if he doesn’t hold on to _something_ , he’s going to shake apart.

And then Peter starts sliding his lips over Stiles, down and down and down, until all of Stiles’s cock is nestled in his mouth and throat, and he just. Holds him there. Stiles can only writhe, because Peter’s pinning his hips. He’s trapped, caught between the vibrator abusing his prostate and the unrelenting heat of Peter’s mouth. It’s exquisite. It’s awful.

Peter starts swallowing, the muscles in that obscene neck of his working the head of Stiles’s dick while he turns up the vibe to max, and that’s it. The sensory overload rips through him, and Stiles thinks he pulls something as he comes with a strangled yell.


End file.
